Invader
by Cobwebbs
Summary: Jason moves around a lot. It's mostly because his dysfunctional family doesn't get the meaning of the phrase 'personal space'. Or how to keep their hands off his stuff.


**A/N) This has absolutely no basis and is literally pointless and - I don't know why I wrote it. I think it's because the comics are severely lacking in bro bonding lately and I hate what's happening with all of them right now -**

 **So here's some Jason and Tim bonding, sorta. I'm not really sure what their doing.**

 **Like I said, this doesn't have much of point. Pointless bonding?**

 **Whatever - it was amusing to write. Just had to get it out.**

 **Motivation is your Superpower.**

* * *

Waking up both sucks and relieves him.

Jason Todd will never, _ever_ \- until his second dying day - tell anyone about how he secretly fears not waking up in the morning all the while hating the dread and relief he gets when he does open his eyes once again and the terror, bloody smiles, and explosions are gone.

Just - it sucks.

But he forgets that feeling just as quickly as he gets out of bed. A few morning muscle cramps from old wounds or last nights clean up attempts, but otherwise he's ok. Fine, hunky dory and relatively glad about his peaceful, clown and bat-free apartment. Even if he moved here like a month ago. He's learned not to get attached to a place for too long, the last one lasted all about six months before Dick found it and well - that was enough reason for Jason to get the hell out of dodge and he didn't even take into consideration the fact that Dick steals his fracking Frosted Flakes - seriously.

Yah, he's not really in any mood to deal with freaks in capes and tights whenever they deem it worthy to bug him. He's a grown boy - needs his _space_.

So it's entirely unwelcome when he, in the midst of stumbling through his sad, small, and most definitely _not_ Alfred Approved kitchen in some attempt to find a granola bar or whatever when -

"What the-!" Reflexes shoot the spoon with deadly accuracy right at the flickering and invading shadow that sneaks up behind him. Shadow, still half asleep, avoids the weaponized eating utensil easily and just yawns like a freakin' cat.

"Morin'-"

Jason just stares, it's rare for them to catch him off guard - but then again - Tim wasn't usually the one doing it. Even Damian was prone to busting through his window to either blame him for something or begrudgingly ask for _'assistance'_ on an insider's drug circle mission. _But Tim?_

"The hell are you doing here you freak?"

Tim has the audacity to yawn again and gives a one shoulder shrug, the red sweater he was wearing slides off awkwardly lowering to one side revealing a really nasty yellow and purple mess all along his shoulder and collar bone.

"Late night?"

Jason blinks and realizes the brat's talking to him. "Yah - it's kinda what I do for a living, the pay's crap though - "Non existent - "You?" Why the hell was he in his apartment?

Better yet - _how_ the hell did he find it - man, and Jason was so sure he found a good spot for a while too - rent was cheap.

Tim shrugs. "S'fine, coffee?"

"Pfft - yah - _no_. Get out, Bones." Seriously, did Alfred feed this kid?

"M'not hungry. _Coffee_." Tim repeats, voice slurring on all his words except for _'Coffee'._ He's clear on that.

"Don't have any. Go home." Jason was so not in the mood for a sleepy, coffee addicted teenager at five in the effing morning.

"Liar. You got some." Tim stumbles into the sad kitchen and makes a beeline for the only thing not pre-frozen or pre-processed in Jason's mostly bare cabinets. A tin of nicely ground coffee beans. Damn him - how did he -

"How much sleep did you _get_ last night?" Jason mutters as the kid pathetically attempts to open the tin and make coffee with his damn eyes shut.

"M'hour."

"Seriously?"

"Late case. Pieces didn't fit - got it though." Tim was incapable of forming whole sentences.

Jason rolls his eyes and yanks the tin out of the skinny kid's hands. If it weren't for the decent layer of muscles on him, this kid could be blown over by a leaf. "Get out. I'll make it." Sheesh - now he has to make this little jerk coffee? He's trespassing!

Tim doesn't care. _That's nice._ He walks out of the kitchen - _stumbles -_ out of the kitchen and Jason hears the distinct sound of rusty springs bending downwards angrily as Tim most definitely falls on the old couch.

If Jason rolls his eyes any harder they'll fall out. "Seriously."

By the time he's got two cups of steaming Joe's Tim's literally faceplanted in the musty couch and snoring like a train trying to stop at top speed. "Hey, doofus. Coffee?" Seriously, he needs to get something inside him before he melts away.

Tim sits up so suddenly, eyes closed, face still ridiculously pale and holds out both hands which Jason fills with a blue mug. It's actually kinda creepy how Tim just - moves around like a freakin' zombie.

The kid slurps the liquid down like water, it's scalding hot. _How the hell -_

"Haaaah. That's good." He lets out a breath, steam escaping out of his mouth and just blissfully enjoys the drink like a druggie after a heroin shot.

Jason snorts. "Seriously? That's all you need?"

"Do not. Diss. The Coffee." Tim finally opens his cotton blue eyes and they are creepily in focus, like that Coffee just magically fixed them, as he fixes Jason with a deadpanned look and sips whatever else is in the mug.

"Yah, whatever. Now you got your fix, what the hell are you doing invading my personal space? You know how I feel about you guys invading my me space." Jason grouches and sips his own mug, waiting for an actual sentence to come out of the invader.

Tim shrugs.

"Do that again and I will break _both_ your shoulders."

Tim snorts.

"Test me."

"Whatever. I was in the area and the dealers I've been tracking sorta proved to be a bit - overwhelming. There were more than I thought and they - " Tim sighs and his shoulder twitches as he takes another sip.

Jason groans. "That why you look like a used punching bag?"

"Yup."

"B know?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Cuz I didn't tell him. This was my find, my mission - I was going to bring them in, wrapped and finished - I had all the ends tied up and - they just ambushed. Turns out I underestimated their smarts." Tim's excuse for nearly getting killed sounds - depressing. "

Jason knows that excuse.

"It was just a mistake, I'll get them next round."

"Could have gotten _killed_ for that stupid mistake." Jason snaps. He's already not in the mood, Tim broke into his new apartment, drank his coffee and now - now _this_? If Bruce finds out what Tim's been up to and how far he let it go only to somehow end up with Jason and Jason doesn't tell him about his stupid side kicks - ex side kicks? Self-destructive tendencies - man - Jason just knows he's going to get the short end of _that_ straw.

"I didn't. I got away, that's all that matters. Besides - I can still catch them, the contraband hasn't gotten farther than Metropolis. I'll just skip over there and it'll be fine." Tim looks down at his mug and an utter look of misery flashes across his face. Jason rolls his eyes - the mug was empty.

He can't help it if he gets up to get the brat another mug full. He looks like a freakin' train wreck with a puppy's face and he's practically drowning in that sweater and his hair needs some major cutting and why the hell is his sweater so _big_?

Jason hands Tim another steaming mug which Tim hides his eternal gratitude for as he drinks it.

"How did you find me anyway? I sorta came here to - ya know, _avoid_ you and others."

Tim almost shrugs again. Jason's eye brow twitches as the kid looks up and gives him a startlingly awake mocking grin. "Please, it's not hard to find you Jason. Bruce ignores how easy it is - I just do just in case."

"And tell Dick?"

"Only when necessary."

"Yah? Was it necessary last time? What, was he on a dire Frosted Flakes shortage or something." The sarcasm is dripping off his voice.

Tim snorts and drinks. "You know he came for help, stop pinning things on mundane details."

"Screw you. And stop stalking me you creep. I like my space, you pollute it."

"I was too tired to go home!"

"Yah, because you look like an effing skeleton. Do you eat? Seriously, when's the last time Alfred's seen you? Cuz' I don't think he'd have let you go on for this long looking like you're about to _drop_ dead."

Tim actually manages a half hearted chuckle. "Carful Jason. Sounds like you _care_ if I drop dead or not."

"Like I said, screw you." Jason scoffs and stands, heading back to the kitchen. "You don't even fit in your own clothes anymore. Look at you, that sweaters drowning you."

"I'm fine. This is warm. I don't have time for actual meals Jason, and neither do you."

"I eat. Do I look like a featherless chicken to you?"

Tim hears eggs cracking and butter sizzling, it's actually one of the few things Jason has to cook with.

"You're eating like six of these suckers."

"Whatever." Tim can't help the small appreciation that travels through him, Jason was actually on of the only members of their dysfunctional family that he could _almost_ relate to. It's kinda nice to know he cares - sorta.

"Get in here."

Tim goes.

Jason tosses a plate piled high with creamy eggs and shoves a spoon into Tim's hands. "Eat the damned plate too,"

"It's not a big deal Jason, I'll just -"

Jason growls. "Eat. It." Seriously? Little bastard invades his home looking like - like something uncomfortably similar to his past life and he expects Jason to just let it go.

"Why?"

Jason growls again. "Because, I'm gonna help you catch these weirdos and if you drop dead while I do - guess who's getting blamed? Me. So shut up and eat."

Tim almost smiles at Jason's thinly veiled excuse. He does eat though.

"I don't need help Jason."

"The hell you don't." Jason scoffs and goes off to his room to collect his gear, he's back in moments and Tim's done with his eggs. "Now, get up and let's get this over with. Where the hell is your uniform anyway?"

Tim points to the messy pile on in fort of the door.

"You came in that?" Jason casts a suspicious eye at the sweater wearing teen. "Then where the hell did you get the sweater?"

Tim's face does a funny thing where he gets this sneaky look and his lips curl up into a smirk that reminds Jason - regretfully - of himself . . ."It's yours." And he runs out of the apartment before Jason can do anything about it.

The older ex robin just blinks at the open empty door way. "Little bastard."

Ok so - now he has to _move_ again . . .like, to Tahiti or something - seriously. Cereal stealing is one thing - but his _clothes_?

God, now he has to burn that thing - damn it.

Yah - sometimes Jason's relieved to wake up - and other times it sucks - this was one of those times.

 _Effing invaders._

* * *

 ** _Like I said, this has very little backbone to it._**

 ** _Whatever, it's just practice. Still getting a handle on Tim - I'm still sadly impaired when writing him. I'll get it eventually._**

 ** _And because I'm slightly depressed, has anyone read the latest Nightwing comic? #50? It sucks._**

 ** _I won't tell you why, but I hate it._**

 ** _There. Hope you guys liked this at least._**


End file.
